


Is There Anybody Out There?

by justlikeabaroness



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Oblique mention of body image issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 07:59:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7631641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikeabaroness/pseuds/justlikeabaroness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>HAM radio is a popular hobby in Asia. Sometimes Minseok turns his on after everyone else is asleep, and tells his thoughts to the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is There Anybody Out There?

**Author's Note:**

> (1) Any mistakes in talking about radio in Asia, please suspend your disbelief. I did my best to research. XD

It's half past three in the morning, and Chen is silently stepping out of their bedroom, heading God knows where. Minseok pretends to be asleep until the footsteps recede. He isn't sure what his roommate gets up to at this hour, but it's happened more than once, he always stays gone for a good hour, and frankly, it's his business. 

Only after silence sets back into the fabric of the room does Minseok open his eyes. He can see the half-moon through the almost-closed blinds, looming bright in the grey-blue night sky. It will be a clear night, and he has things he needs to let out. 

He gets out of bed and goes into the room's closet, pulling out a small bag about the size of a bowling ball. His hands are practiced now, and they set up his father's battered HAM radio in under a minute. It's a newish model, but not new, and it's been well loved; the plastic casing of the microphone is somewhat cracked, and there is a spot worn away on the number pad, indicating very frequent use indeed. 

The radio had been a birthday gift some year; his father had called amateur radio a 'fun hobby, when done carefully.' It made sense to Minseok then, and it does now. They might find his phone number or his social media, but Minseok isn't aware of any way that sasaengs can find his radio call sign. The Communications Commission isn't really a place where obsessed fans of hallyu stars work or hang out, and he's been careful not to mention his hobby in interviews. He also doesn't identify himself by anything other than his call sign. It was his father's, and while it gives away that he's South Korean, it says nothing else. 

He plugs the radio in and hits the on button; it fires into life with an anticlimactic hum, instead of the burst of static that has made him jump before. Still, it's a good thing, the lack of noise; the frequency is where he has left it, and there is no one around to hear.

Minseok taps the microphone and speaks quietly, just to ensure there's no one else on his channel. "HL/6H3NN, over." A simple repeat of his call sign, announcing his presence to anyone on the same frequency. No one has ever replied, but it's best to check. "HL/6H3NN, over." 

Nothing. Minseok takes a breath, and begins to speak.

"It's been a strange few days." His words seem to echo, though he knows it only does that in his own brain. He is alone on this frequency, and has been for at least two years now. At least physically. 

He tries again. "It's been a strange few days," Minseok says, as if talking to a friend. "It's been a bit strange going to work, with what's going on." He always speaks in generalities, just in case; this is his panic room, his safe space, and its breach by some bored observer can hurt him, but not his friends. Not his brothers. 

He goes on. "My dongsaeng succeeded in a difficult goal, and everyone was so proud of him." Baekhyun, beaming at the howling crowds, content in the knowledge that they love him for more than his body, but still enjoying the praise for a job well done. "I was proud of him, too - but it was still weird. I didn't like how it made me feel. And I think he's stronger than I am, but I'm not sure." He hopes. He thinks that if there is anything to rebound from, Baekhyun will rebound as he did after Taeyeon - he kept the rectangle smile in full force then, kept going where a lot of lesser men might falter. But Minseok knows very well that sometimes the happiest and silliest hide the most pain. "I want to be a good hyung and protect him, but I can't, and it's hard to deal with that reality. He already has experienced so much hardship, and he doesn't deserve it." Fans can be cruel, and Minseok hopes to God they're being kind this time.

He sighs like an ahjumma, looking outside at her favorite grandson. "I still wonder about myself," he confesses to the silent frequency of imaginary listeners. "I get scared that things will change and I'll fall back into bad habits, especially since I have less support than I used to since he's left." He has Jongdae, and Junmyeon, and the rest of his brothers, who love him, but it still isn't the same, and even though every whiny ten year old says the same thing, it doesn't make it less true. Minseok knows now that he was being unhealthy - even dangerous - but at the time there had been only that drive. The desperate urge to please people, to make them happy, to bathe in their praise and their acknowledgment that he belongs exactly where his brothers do, that he's just as good at this as all of them. He hopes his dongsaengs will do better than he did. 

_Ah,_ his brain reminds him, _but your dongsaengs don't have their own Luhan, do they?_

He hopes they do. Especially Baekhyun. Even though the fleeting thought of Luhan actually being with anyone but him makes his stomach burn in something like hellfire.

"It isn't that he doesn't support me," he goes on, changing topic, hearing the warmth and longing come into his own voice, "but he can't do it all the time. He's got his own life, and I know that, and I want him to be happy and healthy and safe." Safer than SM ever let Luhan be. But he had to be honest. "But _fuck_ , sometimes I miss him so badly." This _him_ is a recurring character; this _him_ is still someone Minseok calls the love of his life, even if it's only when he's out here talking to the stars. "I think of what he's probably doing, having fun and working on amazing projects and experiencing everything he ever wanted to, and sometimes I resent him. Especially when I need someone." Either to talk with, or to hold, or to kiss silently and fall asleep snuggled on his lithe chest to be woken by Junmyeon pounding on the door. 

The other voice comes out of nowhere, soft, sleek, and with a faint tinge of joy in every accented Korean syllable. "But," Luhan says quietly, as if he can hear Minseok's heart jump screaming in delight like a child into a swimming pool, "you know that _he_ thinks of you every single day, I hope." 

Minseok's voice twinges, as he tries to keep the dam up and holding the waves of relief ( _would Lu even know how to use a HAM radio? He'd had Yixing text him the call sign, but he hadn't been sure_ ), sadness ( _he couldn't just weep until Lu came back, he knew that_ ), and exhilaration ( _It's him; it's really him_ ). "I try to remember," he says, smiling gently. "And I don't always resent him." 

"Good." Luhan laughs quietly, like the low notes on a piano, and Minseok can see him smiling on the other end of the microphone. He sounds scratchy and otherworldly, but he knows that laugh; he's never forgotten that laugh. 

"I know he did what he had to do," Minseok says, hoping that Lu knows he means it. He'd been moody and silent for months after the fallout, but like grieving anything, he's come around. "And it's probably been too weird to stay in contact, with work, and people on social media, and the fucking lawsuit." Oh, the lawsuit.

"He didn't want to drag you into it." Luhan's voice sounds tired suddenly, and not for the first time Minseok wonders if he's doing okay. "He probably figured it would have been painful for both of you." The endless legal battles and arguments have a way of sucking out somebody's soul. 

"Probably. And he doubts he'd have been much help, I know that." It would have been just another worry for Lu, on top of everything else. Minseok closes his eyes, though, and he just has to say it. "Sometimes he wishes you were still here, though. Next to him, instead of his idiot roommate's empty bed." He loves Jongdae more than most people, but not more than Lu. He doesn't think it's possible to love anyone more than Lu.

That gets a laugh, and he hears the old fire. "Fuck this third person double-speak. If I have to, I'll buy you a ticket to Beijing, okay?" Luhan smiles, and Minseok hopes to God he doesn't hear tears in between the amusement. "I miss you, and I'm always here for you." 

"I meant it, though," Minseok says, grabbing the microphone with both hands, words starting to come faster. "I meant it - I don't hate you or anything for leaving; I know you had to for yourself - "

" - I did, yeah, and I'm happier here, but sometimes I wish I'd have stayed just to fucking have you with me!" Luhan laughs again, and the almost desperate joy both warms Minseok's soul and hurts his heart. 

He hears Luhan clear his throat and speak seriously. "If you think you're going to relapse? You call me. On the telephone. I'll give my number to Yixing if you don't want it in your phone." He pauses. "I love you, Minseok. Okay? I want to help if you need it." 

"And if I don't?" He's got a lump in his own throat, but it's partly from happiness; partly from hearing that voice again, from knowing they still feel the same way about each other as they did the night they'd confessed and laughed and kissed in the bathroom at MBC, trying to be quiet while Baekhyun and Kyungsoo yelled at each other about something insignificant. It's heady to be loved.

"If you don't need help ... " Luhan trails off, and when he replies, his voice is small, like the scared trainee boy he'd been. "Could we maybe just talk like this?" 

Talk, just the two of them, with no one around and no one to pull them apart but their own self-control? "Every night I possibly can." He knows he should probably insist on speaking in the third person, on keeping place names and his own name out of both of their mouths, but he doesn't. "Every single fucking night that I possibly can." 

He expects there to be a pause, an awkwardness at how strong his reply just was; a gentle joke about slowing down. But all he hears is a faint, happy "Okay," through the static. And the moment that follows isn't awkward at all. It's peaceful. Quiet. Intimate. No fear, no regret, no nothing, just them, sharing silence as if Luhan is here in Minseok's bed with him, curled up and dozing against his back. 

They say goodnight, longing, lingering, with promises to return, on the same frequency.

He's barely closed the bag when Chen reappears, hair mussed and eyes heavy but bright. He nods, without a word, and simply crawls back between his sheets and closes his eyes. Minseok idly wonders if his best friend has been doing him a favor all along. The thought makes him even happier, makes him feel even more loved, as he puts the radio under his bed and lays back down to sleep.


End file.
